Family Time
by Celeste K. Raven
Summary: Tigerclaw visits the nursey to lay eyes his kits for the very first time.
1. Goldenflower

''I want to see my kits.''

_You want to see our kits; _I correct him gently in my mind.

''Don't disturb Goldenflower if she's sleeping,'' Yellowfang hisses. Her scent fades as she makes her way back to her den. The mild, earthly taste of the borage she had left me still echoes on my tongue.

Tigerclaw shoulders his way into the nursery. His strong gaze passes unblinkingly over my exhausted frame, landing on Tawnykit's lithe, wriggling body. She stumbles about the nest mewling pitifully, little nose twitching as she seeks the warm milk in my belly. She tumbles out of my nest and lands on the hard ground with a squeak.

Tigerclaw's amber eyes glow; his expression becomes disturbingly fierce. I am tempted to wrap my tail around that bundle of tortoiseshell fur and pull it closer to me - to protect my sweet kit with all the powers of Starclan. Instead I fight the urge, chiding myself all the while. _He would not harm his own kin._

I watch as my mate lifts Tawnykit by the scruff of her neck. Tawnykit thrashes in his grip, little paws batting air while she attempts to warn off her opponent with a threatening hiss. _My brave little warrior._ A purr rises in my throat as her soft fur is pressed against my flank. My nose is filled with Tigerclaw's scent for a half-moment, then he settles in an upright position, his tail wrapped around all four paws.

Dappled light floods around us; my mate is no longer blocking the entrance to the nursery. Brindleface lifts her head, and I notice Frostfur's ear flick spasmodically.

''Wha-'' Brindleface begins in a loud voice.

''Hush,'' I say, aware of the many sleeping kits in our den. ''Just a visitor here to see Thunderclan's newest warriors.''

There is nothing hostile about Tigerclaw now. His eyes roam my nest, always avoiding my face. He is probably hoping to catch sight of our unnamed tom, who I can feel at my back, sleeping peacefully under a clump of feathers. I am beginning to convince myself that my mate's earlier hostility was nothing but a trick of the light. Then he speaks;

''Whose kits are they?''

_Whose...? _

The startling question robs me of my voice. My eyes rise to meet his calm, powerful gaze. It is demanding an answer out of me. Being that my tongue and my lips are unable to come together and form one, my eyes wonder down his beautiful pelt. Dark lines paint stripes over his brown fur. He is striped like a Tigerclan warrior; his pelt ripples with muscles…

Anger starts to bubble up from within me. I remember feeling those strong muscles against my flank; I remember grooming that striped pelt until it outshined Silverpelt. I remember giving in to the sights and sounds and smells and everything that was Tigerclaw. I know he remembers it too. Whose kits are they! Is my loyalty –my love- so worthless to him?

The dappled sunlight fades suddenly. The den darkens, reflecting my mood. Then the sunlight appears again, brighter than ever and no longer dappled. It comes down in one large beam. I can see the dust floating about the den, like mist surrounding a waterfall of light. My unnamed tom pops his head up out of the feathers, blinking against the light. His dark pelt glows orange. Orange with black stripes.

I turn toward Tigerclaw, defiance hard in my eyes. _Does that answer your question? _

My mate looks down at the little copy of himself, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He seems pleased with himself, as if he alone is responsible for the life of the furball before us.

''What should you be named, I wonder.''

The softness in his voice melts some of my distress. Yes, it's high time our kit receives a name. He should've received his name at birth, but… it hadn't seemed like the right time.

''Lightkit,'' I offer, inspired by the 'waterfall of light', which is slowly fading away to the usual dappled streams.

''Fogkit,'' Frostfur's voice comes from the other side of the den. She is starring from Tigerclaw to our kit with interest.

_I wonder what she thought of Tigerclaw's question… who knows what rumors will be flying around camp this time tomorrow. _

Tigerclaw shakes his head slowly, eyes unfocused, as if his thoughts are a long way from the nursery, bringing fourth every clan name he's ever heard.

''Bramblekit,'' he says with air of finality.

''Tawnykit and Bramblekit,'' I murmer. The words feel right in my mouth.

Bramblekit drags himself forward with his front paws, as if responding to his name. He settles himself in a ball next to his sister. They are inches away from Tigerclaw, who stands up and stretches himself. I expect him to leave and go back to his duties. Instead he moves forward, closer to his kits. He leans down and begins grooming Bramblekit with long, gentle strokes. Tawnykit rolls over so she's on her side, responding to the presence of an unfamiliar cat who happens to be her father.

I lay my head down on my paws, taking the moment in, making it a memory. In the moments when Tigerclaw was the most wonderful thing in the world to me, I hadn't considered whether the Thunderclan deputy would make a good father. Now only time will tell.

* * *

**So, I put 'Tigerstar' and 'Goldenflower' into the characters search box, ready to be disappointed. Then, low and behold, there were actually quite a few stories for the pair, and some of them were really good. After reading them all, I decided that 'Where Has Our Love Gone?' by Ashlight11 was my favorite, so that's who this fan fiction is dedicated to.**

**If I get enough positive feedback on this one-shot I'll do another about when Goldenflower told Tigerstar –Tigerclaw then- she was having his kits. I think his reaction would have been… out of the normal.**

**Write On!**


	2. Tigerclaw

**I got inspired again so I wrote another chapter, this time from Tigerclaw's point of view. **

* * *

''Have you steeled yourself?'' Darkstripe asks.

I turn to him with superior eyes. ''Why would I have any need?''

He glances down at his paws, sensing the danger in his impudent question. My children were born during the night; I have no patience for my former apprentice's foolishness today.

I must visit the kits and offer my support to their mother. That's what a good little warrior would do; but I wrinkle my nose in disgust to think of being around a body that was created partly within mine. I've no need for little miracles; I'm busy planning big ones.

An early morning breeze chills the air; the sun hasn't had time to warm the camp today. For all its crowded nests and suffocating scents, at least the nursery will be warm. I turn my back on Darkstripe and head for it.

I'm two tail lengths from the entrance when Yellowfang places her mangy self in my way.

''I want to see my kits.'' My tone is even, but there's a challenge in my eyes.

''Don't disturb Goldenflower if she's sleeping.''

I lean back from her foul breath. She clears her throat and stalks away, tail high in the air. I'm fighting a smirk when I step into the nursery.

The smell of milk is the first thing to greet me. Second is Goldenflower's striking irises; third are my daughter's wails. My first thought: _Her voice is strong_. Tawnykit is mottled and pale and gracelessly blundering around her mother. My ear flicks; I've never seen a beautiful kit before.

She falls out of her mother's nest as I watch. Feathers follow her; one floats down and covers her small head. She's so weak, too weak even to wage war against a feather. My insides are stirring with something I've felt before, but never in this way. I could spill blood right now. Protectiveness hits me like a falling tree. I could tear life and limb for my daughter's sake; I _want_ to.

I hear a pathetic little gasp escape my mate's mouth and know that others are sensing my mood. My claws sheath before anyone has time to notice that they were out. I duck my head and gently lift Tawnykit by the scuff. Her lovely fur is close to the scent glands in my mouth.

My she-cat is a fierce little warrior. She spits and thrashes in my grip. Ha; my teeth could crush her delicate body without effort.

They don't, of course. Goldenflower purrs when I place Tawnykit beside her. My mate is exhausted from birthing future leaders, but she grooms my kit with warm eyes. I sit back stiffly, with my tail wrapped neatly around my paws.

How much had Goldenflower wanted these kits? A lot, I guess, because she never asked for them; she acted. That's how a determined cat behaves, and no cat could pretend that _I'd_ been the one to seduce _her_.

Partly wondering, mostly wanting to punish her for getting through my defenses, I ask; ''Whose kits are they?''

I'm rewarded with indignant glare. Her hackles even rise up a bit, but she doesn't respond because we're distracted by the sudden appearance of our second kit, blinking into a ray of light. He's all stripes and dark brown fur; a miniature me. I am very pleased with him.

''What should you be named, I wonder,'' I mummer aloud, half expecting Goldenflower to tell me that she's already named him.

''Lightkit,'' she offers.

Great StarClan, no.

''Fogkit,'' one of the other queens suggests.

Better…

He will have a strong name. Something that represents the powerful cat he'll someday be.

''Bramblekit.''

I can see that Goldenflower likes my choice. Her loving eyes shine down on my kits as she mummers their names.

Bramblekit settles himself down beside his littermate. His tiny jaws open in a yawn. There's an invisible, irresistible tugging on my paws. Little snake-heart; he's got power over me right now. I press my strong shoulders together in a wonderful stretch, then I begin grooming the tom. He noses into my dark fur, blending with me so well that it looks like my fur has simply grown out of control. Goldenflower's eyes burn my pelt.

I lick slower, deifying her stare.

* * *

**Comments, complements, and constructive critism is wanted; flames are not.**

**Write On!**


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